Dear Lera:

I know we have just crossed few words since the last time we had the chance to talk properly. I wanted to tell you that I’ve been trying to make your will, and always aim to the bright side of the things, sometimes looks hard, some others there’s no clue where’s light, blindness, just heavy charged brushes of black paint thrown in between my eyes, near my depth and crumbling to my perception. 

Who knows what’s coming? who cares about it? slightly excited? doubts? big questions marks? do you know what I’m talking about? am I getting this words straight? is it enough to join lines, curves, dots, upper caps, questions marks, letters, typo’s, meanings, and alphabets to make a clear message? there’s a lot of questions marks, but there’s no answers to any of them, just more questions that replace the big facts, the big momentary, the annoying incertitude that claim the vacated space. 

What does contain that vacated space? is it just free space, spare particles with no distance left to run, with just a no matter of being? no there’s no free space, never, spaces are always filled with invaluable ways heading to a be big NOWHERE.

I love you, I hope you get what I told, I will re-read it, but I think I made some ideas there.